


Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven

by pearlydewdrop



Series: Her Socialist and His Suffragette [8]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Love Confessions, Secret Santa 2020, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:54:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28570335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearlydewdrop/pseuds/pearlydewdrop
Summary: To the outside world, Sybil had everything and Tom had nothing.
Relationships: Tom Branson/Sybil Crawley
Series: Her Socialist and His Suffragette [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1398220
Kudos: 5





	Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven

**Aedh Wishes for the Clothsof Heaven.**

...

_Had I the heaven's embroidered cloths,_

_Enwrought with golden and silver light,_

_The blue and the dim and the dark cloths_

_Of night and light and the half-light;_

_I would spread the cloths under your feet:_

_But I, being poor, have only my dreams;_

_..._

To the outside world, Sybil had everything and Tom had nothing.

She was born and raised at Downton Abbey, a bastion of the King's empire and one of the final living symbols of an era that was slowly dying out. As a girl, she'd known little beyond a life of balls, governess, hunting, gowns and servants...a life of grandeur and leisure.

He had grown up in the tenements of Dublin's city centre, a place where money had been scarce and luxury even scarcer. He knew was it was like to hear the ruthless knocking of the landlord's fist upon the door. He had seen his mother struggle to make ends meet and keep food on the table for him and his siblings after his father died.

Tom and Sybil were worlds apart. By all logic, they shouldn't have ever had anything in common. Two people, so separated by class and tradition as they were, shouldn't have even spoken to one another beyond 'good morning' and 'good night'.

_...but they did, and they had._

That was how their whole story had begun...

Carefully observing the combination of uncertainty and determination that graced Sybil's features, Tom struggled to find the right words to express all that he was feeling.

Their shoulders brushed as they made their way across the quad of the military hospital, watching the soldiers and nurses preparing for the long and painful months ahead.

Ever since the day Lord Grantham had announced the assassination of Franz Ferdinand, their lives had changed forever. The Great War had begun. England had been turned completely upside down. Young men were dying in their thousands on the battlefields of France, the women's movement had set aside their campaigns for equality to aid the war effort and revolution was stirring in the veins of both the the Irish and the Russians.

It was a new age.

They passed through the tunnel and headed for the nurse's dormitories, the place where she would live and train for the coming weeks. As they stood together in the semi-darkness of the tunnel, the weight of the transition happening in their lives truly hit him

Like anyone, Tom Branson had his dreams. He wore them proudly on his chest like a badge of honour. He dreamed of Ireland, of freedom, of a life outside service and...of _her._

Their world was changing, caught in a whirlwind between the old and new. For the first time since he had begun to fall for her, Tom was truly starting to believe that their world was changing fast enough for him and Sybil to be together.

He couldn't remain silent any longer.

In that moment, Tom swore to himself that he would dedicate his every waking minute to Sybil's happiness. He would lay his dreams beneath her feet; dreams for a future where people like him could dare to love people like her.

Gently touching Sybil's arm to stop her, Tom prepared himself for her response.

He prayed that she'd tread softly, knowing full well that she wielded the power to completely break him to smithereens. It was a power he readily surrendered to her.

After all, Tom's heart had been hers from the very moment they'd met.

"Branson", Sybil said warningly, clearly expecting the words that were so ready to fall from his lips.

Removing the chauffeur's cap from his head, Tom eyed her tenderly.

For the first time since they'd met, they truly felt like equals. Class differences and wealth aside, standing there in that tunnel and hidden from the outside world...they were truly equals, kindred spirits.

_"I know I shouldn't say it but I can't keep it in any longer..."_

In that moment, Tom confessed more openly to her than he had ever done to anyone before. Standing in front of Sybil, he laid himself bare...more raw and vunerable then he had been since he was a boy.

His heart was hers, along with his hope and dreams.

They had been for much longer than Sybil would ever know.

* * *

The night sky was an inky canopy of darkness, freckled only by a faint scattering of stars. The chill of evening had well and truly set in. It made him shiver in his uniform.

Tom stood beside the motor, feet touching down onto the moon bleached driveway.

The abbey glowed softly, it's large opulent windows shining like roman candles in the night. Inside, the house was alive with The Crawley Family's Christmas festivities, as untouched as they were by the war's icy clutches. Enwrought with golden and silver light...Downton Abbey wasn't a place for the likes of him.

It made something deep inside Tom ache. It made him, rather painfully, think of home; of how his Ma and younger siblings were likely at midnight mass, singing carols under the watchful eye of the parish priest and praying for the repose of his cousin's soul.

"Branson", a voice called out behind him, pulling him from his reverie.

Tom whirled around, his eyes lighting up when he saw her. In that moment, the shining earnestness of his gaze rivalled even the magnificent glow of the abbey. He smiled openly, genuinely.

"Milday", Tom jested, tipping his hat to her. "I wasn't sure that I'd be wanted tonight...given that it's Christmas Eve, and all."

Sybil smiled tightly in response, hands toying with the apron on her nurse's uniform.

The air between them crackled with intensity, heavy with the tension that remained from their exchange that day in York.

Despite both of their best efforts to return to some form of normality between them, neither Sybil or Tom had managed the transition back to lady and chauffer quite well.

"I was happy to cover the extra shift", she replied, treading softly as she always did when it came to their recent interactions. "Many of my fellow nurses have small children to be attending to this evening and they've all been so helpful with my training that I couldn't possibly refuse."

"So you're enjoying it?", Tom asked, watching how her eyes lit up. "The nursing?"

Sybil nodded, positively beaming. "I like to be useful."

Tom found himself returning her smile. "You're a kind person, Milday", he told her honestly. "The kindest I know."

Sybil bit her lip in silence, never one to blow her own trumpet."It was the right thing to do."

It was then that she decidedly took his proffered hand, using his support to settle into the backseat of the motor. After all, it was the expected behaviour from the family chauffer and a daughter of house...even if the fleeting contact left both of them with flushing cheeks and bashful smiles.

Tom nodded in return, knowing there wasn't much more he could say to Sybil without crossing the invisible boundaries she had since placed between them.

He had already made her his offer, assuring that her that would wait until she was ready for her reply. For now, their future was completely and totally Sybil's to decide.

"I'm sure your family are all very proud", Tom tried, smirking slightly as his conversation found its way back to more familiar territory.

Without saying a word, they both knew only too well how Lord Grantham would take the news of his youngest daughter spending Christmas Eve at the village hospital...not very well.

"They are...", Sybil snorted in faint amusement, her prior hesitancy in Tom's presence all but leaving her. She smiled, basking in the return of their usual companionship. "...most of the time..."

* * *

There were days when the war felt a million miles away from life at Downton Abbey.

The sun rose, the sun set and Tom Branson went about his duties as chauffer as he had always done. He drove Mrs Crawley to and from the house for dinner, he taught Lady Edith to drive the motor and he brought Lord Grantham into the village whenever he'd had business to attend to or farmers to meet with.

Life was as normal as could be...until it wasn't.

Tom always tried his best to keep a respectful distance from The Crawleys. He'd often feigned deafness at the vicious bickering between Lady Grantham and The Dowager and he'd pointedly chosen to ignore the usually stoic Lady Mary's tears when as she returned to the motor after bidding goodbye to Captain Crawley.

There was one Crawley, however, whose feelings it was totally impossible for Tom to disentangle from his own...Sybil.

His heart clenched when his eyes fell upon her deathly pale face in the rear view mirror.

Sybil's usually electric blue eyes were clouded over, fixed thoughtfully upon some far off point. Her hair was loose and her curls were slick with sweat, nursing cap long since discarded on the seat beside her.

"Are you a'right?", he asked gently, truly concerned about her.

Sybil shook her head, biting down on her bottom limp to prevent it from trembling. She had been struggling to maintain her resolve all day...now it was crumbling before his very eyes.

"Tom", she gasped, making his heart leap involuntarily at the rare use of his given name. "Stop the car!"

Without waiting from him to come around and open the back door, Sybil had already rushed out on to the road. She hurried to the ditch, retching loudly before emptying the contents of her stomach into the nearest bush.

Tom approached her carefully like he would a wounded animal. He was uncertain, at first, that she would care for his comfort but knew that she was probably in need of a friend...a true friend.

"Sybil", he started gently, setting a tentative hand upon her shoulder. "What happened?"

She looked up at him, eyes glassy. She just about managed to choke out an explanation; "Lieutenant Courtney took his own life this morning."

Tom felt his stomach drop at her words.

He hadn't known the man at all, at least beyond the shining stories of hardwork and resilence that he'd heard from Sybil.

"I-I can still feel his blood on my hands", she whispered, eyes welling up with unshed tears. "I should have done more for him! I should have!"

Without another word, Tom stepped forward and drew an equally heartbroken and frustrated Sybil into his arms. After a moment's hesitation, she soon settled against his chest and her tears fell fast and plentifully onto the fabric of his uniform.

Tom's arms wrapped Sybil's shaking shoulders in return. They held each other tightly, their grasp desperate and unyielding. For the first time since its announcement, the Great War suddenly felt as though it was right upon their doorstep.

"It's not your fault, Sybil", Tom promised her, fingers softly caressing the curls cascading down the broad of her back.

Stepping back a little from the depths of his embrace, Sybil glanced up at him. Her brows were furrowed and there was a newfound fierceness in her eyes, burning brighter than he could have ever imagined.

"Perhaps not, but I won't let this happen to anyone else", Sybil vowed, causing a burst of pride to engulf Tom's whole body. "Not again..."

* * *

The soft orange light from the old gaslamp soothed the garage's rough edges, Tom watched Sybil solemnly. Her eyes were locked upon his, serious and determined, more than he had ever seen from her before.

Their conversation felt like a dream...one that Tom had absolutely no desire to wake up from.

Sybil beamed quietly, her words purposeful and chosen with care. She'd clearly rehearsed this moment over and over in her head, the fleeting comfort of an imagined future to get through the war's darkest moments. Tom knew because he had done the same.

"My answer is yes. I'm ready to travel, and you are my ticket..."

With those words, Tom's soul was set ablaze. Sybil captivated him, totally utterly and completely. Her thirst for freedom was infectious.

"...to get away from this house, this life."

Tom couldn't believe his ears. He shuffled awkwardly, her words rendering him a hapless lovesick schoolboy...something he hadn't been for nearly fourteen years.

Consumed with an overwhelming desire to prove that this was real (that she was real), Tom wanted only to reach out and touch Sybil's face...but found himself completely incapable of moving. Frozen with shock, the Irish man's hands hung limply at his sides.

Needless to say, Tom had always been a man of words.

"Me?"

Sybil's eyes flickered with mild amusement. "No, Uncle Tom Cobbly", she replied seriously before dissolving into giggles.

Tom watched her silently, wanting nothing more than her lightness of spirit to be completely true.

But he was no fool. Tom understood exactly what Sybil was giving up to be with him. The riches, fine cloths and titles of her class were all things that he knew were of little consequence to his beloved. But her family and friends?That was another story altogether.

Tom knew as well as anyone that Sybil loved The Crawleys with her whole heart. She would never be able to walk away from them this easily.

"And you won't mind burning your bridges?", he asked.

"Mind?", Sybil laughed, caught up in the heady exhilaration of the moment. "Fetch me the matches!"

In the garage that night, Tom and Sybil's lips met for the first time...the passion and longing of three years culminating in that one perfect and life changing kiss. They came together like magnets, in heart and soul, fitting together in ways that they'd both previously thought impossible.

"You can kiss me", Sybil said, her eyes shining in anticipation. "...but that is all until everything is settled."

In response Tom only nodded, his fingers sweeping a lock of hair out of Sybil's face. His words were as true and honourable as the love and friendship he felt for her.

"By God, it's enough I can kiss you."

Even then as they hesitantly stepped forwards, their hands carefully traversing the planes of each other's bodies for the first time, Sybil Crawley and Tom Branson knew deep down that they could never be the wayward starcrossed lovers bound for Gretna Green.

Her parents and sisters were far too important to Sybil...and, for that reason alone, Tom would vow to himself that he would one day make The Crawleys important to him too.

* * *

The mixture of exhaustion and the weight of a heavy heart had made the drive back to Downton in the semi-darkness quite a challenge. The motor was silent, eerily so.

It made him miss Sybil even more than he had ever thought possible.

The way they could effortlessly talk to one another for hours on end without ever running out of things to say...that wasn't something Tom thought he would ever experience with anyone. But he had. And if Mary Crawley had her way, they'd be separated forever.

Tom sighed deeply, replaying the events of the last few hours on loop in his mind. From the moment Sybil turned up at the garage to when her sisters arrived at the inn.

It had all happened so fast...like a whirlwind, like a dream.

He could still see the shy smile on Sybil's face as she'd loosened her corset and unbound her hair. He could still feel her curious eyes on him as he removed his waistcoat and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.

Tom could still hear Sybil's sigh of relief as he'd assured her of his intention to sleep in the chair, neither of them trusting themselves beyond chaste kisses and innocent hugs.

When Mary and Edith arrived through the door, he couldn't claim to have been surprised. While Tom had mixed feelings about the two oldest Crawley sisters at the best of times, there was no denying that both women loved Sybil with every bone in their body.

That, at least, was one thing they all had in common.

"I will stay true to you"...Sybil words echoed around like soft whispers in his mind, a balm to his aching soul. He trusted her, of course he did...but their situation was still so complicated.

From the moment Mary and Edith had put forward their case, Tom had known almost immediately what his beloved would do. He knew Sybil well and had witnessed the sheer force of her fierce loyalty on numerous occasions.

The war may have changed many things but Sybil was still the woman who'd supported Gwen, defended Lieutenant Courtney and saved his own job more than once.

She was the woman Tom loved, the woman he'd fallen head over heels for, and that woman wasn't going to steal off like a thief in the night to be married.

A decision like that would have broken her mother and father's hearts, the last thing that Sybil would have ever wished to do. Not ever!

Tom truly truly understood her decision to return to Downton that night...but feck it to blazes if it hadn't broke his heart just a little to see her walk away from him.

* * *

Tom smiled quietly to himself as the shores of Ireland drifted slowly into sight.

Without even closing his eyes, he could smell the fresh air in the fields of his grandfather's farm in Connemara, hear the rattle of the Tram down Grafton Street and see his nieces and nephews as they splashed in the waters of Portmarnock beach.

He was returning to Ireland; his country, his home...the second great love of his life.

He felt Sybil's eyes upon him and felt the energy practically radiating from her despite the distance between them.

She leaned against him, the crown of her head finding the crook of his neck.

"We're going home", Sybil whispered with a soft giddy smile, a smile that brought him back to the days of lively debates in the motor on the road back to Downton after rallies and banter over whose reading recommendation from her father's collection had been best...times before the war.

Grinning in return, Tom wrapped his arms around her...as much to shield her from the icy sea breeze as it was to feel her close. His lips brushed against Sybil's temple, her fingers wrapping around his.

_Home..._

It took a few moments for Sybil's words to truly sink in but when they did, they hit right to Tom's core.

They were really doing this. After years of pining and hoping and wishing, he and Sybil were finally together. The constraints and traditions of their past were discarded, left behind on the other side of the Irish Sea. For the first time in their lives, they could begin afresh.

In Dublin, Tom and Sybil would be Mr and Mrs Branson. Just like any other couple with dreams, ideas and a passion for life that burned as brightly as their passion for each other.

It wouldn't be easy, they both knew that. But nothing worthwhile ever was.

"Aye, Love", Tom replied, ready (as Sybil was) for whatever else life would throw at them. "We're going home..."

_..._

_I have spread my dreams under your feet;_

_Tread softly because you tread on my dreams._

_..._

* * *

**Poem quoted above is 'Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven' by WB Yeats**

_**This year was my first year taking part in Sybil/Tom Secret Santa; my prompt from Cxe128 was...: I would like a oneshot of the events leading up to and after Sybil and Tom's first kiss after the war. Feel free to use your imagination!** _

_**I hope you enjoyed it and can only wish you and your the happiest New Year. Let's all hope 2021 will be a better one :)** _


End file.
